


Bound

by sassysmith19 (sassysas19119)



Category: EXO (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: BTS/EXO ships, Demon AU, Demons, Don't really know how to tag this?, Gay, Gay Sex, Gay ships, Humans, M/M, OT9 - Freeform, TaoJin, TaoJoon?, TaoRis - Freeform, VTao?, kpop, ot12 feels, there's plot i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:44:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10036727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassysas19119/pseuds/sassysmith19
Summary: "Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment."





	1. Chapter 1

He had known that it would be a mistake, to come back here, but that had hardly stopped him in the past, and it wouldn’t stop him now, no matter how many memories surrounded this place, both good and bad. This had been his home, for years, and he wasn’t going to give it up so easily, despite what others had done. After a long moment, he stepped away from the window, and reached for his phone. He had things to do, a reason to be here, but those things could wait. Right now he wanted – needed – a distraction, from the memories, the feelings, the pain. He was so close, and yet so far, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

“You’re tearing yourself apart.”

He snorted, looked pointedly in the opposite direction. “Why do you think that?”

A gentle hand, on his shoulder, and he pulled away. “I can feel it, inside of you. You’re burning up inside, it’s _hurting_ you. A long silence. “Why do you do this to yourself? You know it hurts, to be here, so why do you keep coming back?”

“I have a job to do.”

“It’s not at all necessary for you to keep returning. Don’t lie to me, we both know that you don’t ever have to come here, if you don’t want to, and yet you choose to anyways. Why do you insist on hurting yourself?” No response was given, and then the hand was back on his shoulder, gentle and yet simultaneously entirely unpleasant. “Zitao, please. I can’t help you if you won’t even make an effort to help yourself.”

He turned on his heel, glared at the speaker. “You really want to know? You want to know why I keep coming here? This was my _home_.”

“You think I believe that that’s the only reason?”

Zitao let out an angry breath, turned quickly, paced away. “No. You’re not…not stupid.” He inhaled quickly, nostrils flaring. “Every time, every single time, before I get on the plane, I promise myself that I’m going to contact them. That I’m going to reach out and apologize. That I’m going to try to make it all better. And every time, I can’t do it.” He exhaled, blinking back tears. “And I won’t be able to do it this time.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m _weak_. We’ve had this discussion.” No answer. “I’m such a hypocrite. I said horrible things, criticizing everything that _he_ did, and then I went and did it myself. I’m a horrible person, you know this, and I’m never going to be able to go through with it.”

“You don’t believe that you’re worthy of their forgiveness.” Zitao shrugged. “You don’t think that any of them would forgive you?” A quick shake of the head. “I’m inclined to believe that you’re wrong. They were your friends, your brothers, you really think they’d throw you away so quickly?”

“After what I did? Absolutely.” Zitao leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. They wouldn’t, they _shouldn’t_ forgive him, not ever, not for what he had done, to them, to all of them, to his _family_. “They were my family. And I destroyed them.” After a long moment, he looked up at his companion. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I want to apologize, I do, but I don’t know how. I can’t go see them.” He blinked quickly when his companion pulled him into a hug. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”

After a long moment, his companion pulled backwards. “You can.” Zitao rolled his eyes. “You’ll figure it out. I know you will.” A soft smile. “Oh, darling, you’re going to be fine.” A long silence. “I have to go. I have other clients, you know how it is.” He pressed a quick kiss to Zitao’s forehead. “Call me, if you need something important.” He reached forward, tucked a small key into Zitao’s pocket, and then pulled backwards. “Good night, Zitao.” Without waiting for a response, his companion vanished into thin air.

Zitao ran a hand through his hair, looked out the window. “Stupid demon.” He had met Taehyung a year ago, and the demon – _Pride_ demon, he would insist – had refused to leave Zitao’s side since. Not that he was awful to have around, because he wasn’t, but sometimes…sometimes Zitao just wanted to smack him upside the head. He had come close, on multiple occasions, but had never actually done it. He glanced to the side, caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. “But I suppose you do have a point.”

Those words made him grimace, because the demon was always right, and he hated it.

“Is Taehyung gone?”

Zitao nodded, turned to face the newcomer. “What do you want from me tonight?” A shrug. “If it’s nothing, then you can leave, Namjoon. I didn’t ask you to come here.”

“It’s not nothing.” Zitao raised an eyebrow, as Namjoon came forward. He was shorter than Zitao, but he always had a look in his eyes that made Zitao feel like the demon towered over him. “But I’d hate to touch you when you aren’t entirely stable.” Zitao rolled his eyes. _How noble of you_. “I heard that.” There was a warning, in Namjoon’s voice, but Zitao wasn’t in the mood to shy away. “You’re so angry. What did I do?”

“It’s not you.”

“It’s Taehyung?” A quick shake of Zitao’s head. “Then what…oh. Oh. _Oh_.” A long silence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…that was insensitive, of me. I’ll just…I’ll go.” He turned to leave, but then Zitao grabbed his upper arm, and pulled him backwards. “Zitao-”

“Don’t talk. I don’t want to hear you say anything, about this. But I can’t focus, not right now. I need you. Please.”

A long silence. Namjoon gazed at Zitao for a long time, before Zitao spotted the shift in his eyes, a red sheen where there hadn’t been one before. “Don’t touch.” After a moment, Zitao released him, stepped backwards. Namjoon stepped forwards, fingers resting on Zitao’s stomach. “Take this off.” Zitao obeyed, fingers trembling as he tugged open the buttons, slid the shirt off of his shoulders. Namjoon leaned forward, nosed along his jawline, sniffing gently. “Mm, Taehyung touched you, didn’t he?” A slow nod. “Do you like that, when he touches you?” A heartbeat of hesitation, and then Zitao shook his head. “I’ll speak to him.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t speak.” Zitao clamped his mouth shut, trying to force his breathing steady. “Don’t you fucking make a _sound_.” Zitao nodded. “I want your entire focus on me, am I understood?” Another nod. “I’m going to take you apart, piece by piece, and then I’m going to put you back together again. And when I’m done with you, perhaps then you’ll have the clarity to reach out to them.” One final nod. “Good boy.” Zitao smiled softly, at the praise. “Did you keep to my routine, this morning, pretty boy?”

“I did.” Zitao’s voice was airy, breathless, and he was focused, so focused, on Namjoon that he the demon decided to ignore the fact that he had spoken. “I was good.”

Namjoon smiled at him, leaned forward, to press his face into Zitao’s hair. “You’re always so good for me, aren’t you?” A quick nod, from Zitao. “Bed. Go.” Zitao was quick to obey, came to a halt only when he was seated on the bed, gazing at Namjoon. “Turn around.” Zitao obeyed, a soft, contented sigh leaving his lips. Namjoon crawled up onto the bed, stopped right behind Zitao. “Look at you, so pretty. Such a pretty little boy.”


	2. Chapter 2

“ _Injuries take time to heal. That’s something they didn’t remember, and at this point, you’d do well to remember it too. Let yourself heal from this. You’re no good to anyone if your mind is too fractured to function_.”

Those had been some of Namjoon’s first words to Zitao, after they had met for the first time. There had been more, about ten minutes more, but those had been the few that had stuck out to him, and had stayed with him since that day. And he had thought about them, long and hard, and he still didn’t follow them as well as he perhaps should have, but it had been enough, back then, to get him through everything in one piece. That day had been one of the hardest of Zitao’s life, when Namjoon had essentially forced him to open up about everything that was hurting him inside, about everything he had said, and done, and been through. It was easier, now, to talk about it; Namjoon didn’t have to break him down quite so thoroughly.

Zitao made a quiet noise in his throat, rolled onto his side, hand coming out to search for the body that he knew wouldn’t be there. It never was, but he searched, every time, because he was stupid, and human, and _hopeful_. After a few minutes of lying there, in the silence, he opened his eyes, blinked quickly, eyes adjusting to the bright room. “Namjoon?”

“He left.” Zitao flinched, looked up quickly, eyes finding the speaker easily. “At about two in the morning, an hour after you fell asleep.” The demon got to his feet, walked towards Zitao, one hand in his pocket, casually stunning. “Taehyung is worried about you. He asked me to check up on you.” Zitao rolled onto his stomach, a quiet groan coming from his throat. “I’ll tell him you’re doing alright, and that you’ve got it all under control. He’ll believe me.” Zitao groaned again, before he pushed himself into a seated position, and faced the speaker.

“Thank you.” The speaker came forward, and Zitao reached out to take his hands. “Could you, maybe, possibly-”

“You don’t have to ask.” He pulled one hand free, and placed it on the back of Zitao’s neck, pressing gently. “You never have to ask, not for this.” Zitao closed his eyes, allowed his forehead to fall forward against the demon’s chest. “You’re alright, sweetheart, you’re alright.” Slowly, the magic made its way into Zitao’s head, clouding his thoughts, making it hard to think of anything other than the feeling of the demon’s hands on his body. When the demon released him, Zitao made a quiet noise, clinging to the demon’s shirt. “Oh, sweetie. You’re in so much pain.” Zitao whined, pulled the demon closer to him.

“Don’t leave me.”

The demon hummed, pressed a kiss to the top of Zitao’s head. “Sleep, sweetheart. We’ll talk when you wake up, I promise.”

***

Zitao woke up underneath Seokjin, the demon’s face pressed against his shoulder, one hand on Zitao’s elbow, the other on his hip, breathing quietly. “Hey.” Seokjin hummed quietly in acknowledgement, hands moving to brush over Zitao’s shoulders. “What is there to talk about?”

“You know exactly what there is to talk about.” Zitao mumbled out a quiet response, sniffled gently. “Oh, sweetheart, I know it hurts. But you and I both remember how much easier it was for us to help you when you face your pain. If you keep running, you’ll keep building your walls, and you know how hard it is to break those.” Zitao whined softly, but didn’t speak. “Come on, sweetie, get up. Let’s get you some breakfast.” Carefuly, Seokjin helped Zitao to his feet, and pressed him down into a chair. “Stay. I’ll go get you something to eat.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” Seokjin pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, and then vanished. Within seconds, he had returned, bag of food in one hand. He handed it to Zitao, who, after a moment, opened it. “The others, except Namjoon, are worried. About you. He’s adamant that you can take care of yourself, and that you’ll make the right decision, without our interference.”

“Do you disagree?”

“Not necessarily. I think, given time, that you’d be able to move on, whatever that may mean, without our help. But I also know that sometimes, people – and it doesn’t matter whether I mean angels or demons or humans – need help. Especially you. With what you’ve gone through, Zitao, I do worry. Not as much as Taehyung, but I do. I know you can take care of yourself, but I also know that it’s easier if you have help. And I like you. You’re very kind, and sweet, and your soul is beautiful.” He paused, looked out the window. “You know that some of them want to feed on your soul.” Zitao nodded. “I’ve warned them, but I can’t protect you forever.”

“What are you telling me to do, then?”

“I can’t tell you to do anything. But what I would suggest, in this case, is find an angel to be friends with, or get someone to put a claim on you, at least temporarily, until they – my brothers – get bored of you and move on.” The former option brought up an image in Zitao’s mind, and he gasped quietly. Seokjin rushed to apologize, a gentle hand on Zitao’s wrist. “I’m sorry, that isn’t what I meant, Zitao, please, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I know. It’s fine.”

“It’s not, but…we can talk about it later.” Zitao shrugged, set the bag of food on the ground. “While I don’t agree with everything that my siblings say, they have gotten a few things right. You can’t keep torturing yourself like this.” Zitao stiffened, looked away almost immediately. “Hey, no. Look at me.” After a few more beats of silence, he obeyed. “You know that the only reason you come back here, the only reason you agree to these jobs, is because you feel guilty. You think you’re going to apologize.”

“Are you telling me that I’m wrong?”

“No. Not completely. But based on how many times you’ve been back here, how many times you’ve said that you’d say something to them, and how many times you’ve _actually_ followed through – meaning none – we have our doubts.” Zitao looked away, and Seokjin reached forward to take his hands. “Listen to me. I love you, you know that. But you’re hurting yourself, every time you do this, and I hate seeing that. I hate watching you hurt yourself, knowing that there’s nothing I can do to stop you. So I’ll ask you one more time, Zitao, please. You have to stop this. Go home. This was your past, and every time you come back here, it only weighs you down more. I know you blame yourself, sweetheart, but they don’t.”

“And how could you _possibly_ know that?”

Seokjin swallowed. Oops. “I’ve heard it, in their minds. Trust me when I say, Zitao, that they don’t blame you. They miss you, absolutely, but they know that you did what you had to do, because it was best for you. They don’t hate you.” Zitao looked away. “None of them hate you.”

“ _They_ might not, but-”

“Oh, who gives a _fuck_ what he thinks about you?” They were both startled out of their conversation when Jimin arrived, appeared out of nowhere. “He isn’t your boyfriend anymore, he’s not your _angel_ , his opinion no longer matters. He was more than happy to cut himself out of your life without a second thought, why should you give him any thought, or time, or pain?”

“Jimin-”

“No. Don’t tell me to go easy on him. We’ve tiptoed around this for two years, now, we’ve been ignoring the reality of the situation for long enough. And I know that it sounds harsh, Zitao, trust me, but it’s the truth. He doesn’t matter, what he _thinks_ doesn’t matter.”

“Jimin, go _home_ -”

“Fuck off, Seokjin. You know, I think the only reason you’ve been avoiding the truth about all of this is because you’re in love with Zitao. You want to spend more time with him, and you know that if he moves on from Yifan, you’ll become obsolete, and you won’t _matter_. I think you’re more afraid of that than you are of hurting him.”

“Jimin-”

“Seokjin, shut u-”

“No, _Jimin_ , you can’t just throw around an angel’s name in casual conversat-”

They were all silenced by the heavy sound of large wings moving through air, and then it was quiet. Slowly, Zitao turned, and his breath caught in his throat, a quiet breath leaving his lips.

“Fuck.”


	3. Chapter 3

Before Zitao knew what was happening, Jimin had a hand on his wrist, was yanking him backwards against his chest, a hand around his waist. Seokjin stepped in front of him, hissing, teeth bared. In seconds, the other demons had started to appear, Namjoon standing beside Jimin, Taehyung walking forward to stand at Seokjin’s shoulder. The others were there, behind Jimin and Zitao. Seokjin spoke quietly to the angel in front of him, tone stiff with anger. “Haven’t you hurt him enough?” The angel didn’t speak, stepped forward, and Seokjin growled. “Why are you _here_?” The angel’s eyebrow rose, and he waved his hand, pushing Taehyung and Seokjin apart with his magic. He stepped between them, came forward, stopped only when Namjoon stepped in between him and Zitao.

“Answer the damn question, angel.” Zitao saw that Namjoon’s claws were sliding free, and he shot a look at Seokjin, eyes wide. “Why are you here? You clearly never wanted him before, why are you here now?” The angel hadn’t spoken, didn’t look like he was going to speak anytime soon, and Namjoon growled. Taehyung closed his eyes, a soft sigh leaving his lips, and Zitao knew that look, knew what it meant. He could feel the fury vibrating off of Namjoon’s back, and knew he was about three seconds away from trying to tear the angel’s face off. A long silence, and Zitao pulled free of Jimin’s grip, stepped forward.

“Namjoon.” The demon growled over his shoulder, didn’t look away from the angel. “Get out of my way.” When Namjoon hesitated, Jimin reached forward and grabbed his arm, pulled him backwards, out of Zitao’s way. Zitao stepped forward, until he was just inches away from the angel, gazes locked. “You won’t talk to them. They’re demons, you’re an angel; I understand why. But I’m asking you to talk to me. Why are you here? I know it’s not because Jimin said your name, I’ve known you long enough to know that you don’t have to come when anyone – human, demon, angel – says your name; you chose to come here. To me.”

The angel looked past Zitao, at the demons, and then spoke quietly. “When they leave, I will answer your question.” Zitao nodded once, looked over his shoulder. Most of them had already vanished; only Seokjin and Taehyung remained. Zitao shot a look at Seokjin, and after a moment, he nodded, put a hand on Taehyung’s elbow, and they vanished. Zitao turned back to the angel. “I am here, because I wanted to see you.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I would not.” The angel looked away, before he met Zitao’s eyes again. “They are demons, but they are correct. You are hurting yourself. You cannot keep coming here. It hurts you.” Zitao sniffed delicately, looked away. “Listen to me. If you will not listen to the demons, then listen to me. I understand that you are upset, about leaving. I know that you feel like you are a complete hypocrite. But listen to me, please, Zitao. I do not hate you, I do not hate your choices. In fact, I understand exactly why you did what you did, more so than anyone.” Zitao looked at him for a moment, before he wrapped his arms around his body, looked at the floor. “You and I both know why we did what we did. And we might not have the same reasons, but I think they were similar enough. You were not happy there, you were not happy _here_ , you were hurting, and you wanted to get away. So why do you keep coming back?”

“They were our family.”

“Family leaves family all the time. Just because I moved out of my parents’ home doesn’t make them not my parents anymore. But the fact of the matter is, darling, that staying there would have killed you.” Zitao’s breath caught in his throat, and he looked at the angel, eyes wide. “I…I apologize. That was out of line.”

“No, it’s fine-”

“I have to go.”

“Yifan, wait.” The angel froze, looked over his shoulder at Zitao. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He paused, bit his lip. “I love you.”

After a long moment, of Yifan just staring at Zitao, and Zitao staring right back, the angel vanished, leaving Zitao alone. He held still for a few moments, before he noticed the tears falling, and he sank to the floor, head in his hands. In seconds, he felt Seokjin’s hands on his shoulders, could feel the demon’s magic starting to slip into his mind, and he shook him off. “No. I don’t…no. Just leave. All of you. Just go.”

They were quick to obey, for which Zitao was grateful, and he wrapped his arms around himself, crying quietly.

He stayed there for what felt like hours, unmoving, until, for whatever reason, he felt something – or someone, perhaps – enter his room. “I’m sorry.” Oh, he knew that voice, oh, this was bad, this was bad, this was very bad. “Zitao, look at me. Please.” When he didn’t, the newcomer knelt behind him, put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” Zitao held still for a split second, before he leaned backwards, allowed the newcomer to pull him back into his arms. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” Zitao turned, slowly, pressed his face into his companion’s shoulder. “I’m sorry that I hurt you, but I couldn’t stay there any longer than I did.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Zitao’s head. “I love you, I love you so much. I won’t leave you, ever again, I’m so sorry.” Zitao’s grip on him tightened, as he sobbed quietly, clinging. “I won’t let them touch you, not ever again. You’re mine, you know, you’ll always be mine. I won’t let you go again. I love you.” Zitao hummed his assent, mouthing at his companion’s neck, before he bit down gently, sucking skin into his mouth. “Oh, there’s my sweet little tiger, so beautiful.”


End file.
